A Twisted Comfort
by Diablolita
Summary: Hermione is kidnapped alone by Snatchers in the Forest of Dean and brought to Malfoy Manor. After Draco protests to murdering her, Fenrir Greyback is amused with the prospect of forcing Draco to bed her for the night. "Oh, yes she's a sweet one. If you don't, anyone might try to jam themselves inside her." Rated M for explicit sex and threats of sexual violence.


_Run, run, run! _

Those were the only thoughts racing through Hermione's head, repeating themselves again and again. It's amazing how the finer points of the brain's mental synapses just shut down in times of panic. Gone are the memories, the emotions, the qualities of character that make a human being a human being. Once the chase is on, you are nothing more than beast. You register sounds, objects, heat, a wayward branch poised to trip you up, but that's about the extent of your mental sophistication. You are action or inaction, victim or survivor. Fight or flight it's called. In this case, Hermione chose the latter.

She had lost vision on where the boys were. Once they were spotted by the gang of Snatchers, Ron, Harry and her had all fled in different directions.

It was looking as if hers was the wrong one.

Her lungs burned in her chest and her legs were screaming in protest as she pushed them for longer than they could go. Quickly, too quickly, they were given their desired respite as she was cornered from all sides. There was nowhere to run. Like a trapped animal, she lashed out.

"_Cruci—_"

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Her wand jumped out of her hand. The panic was fully setting in now; her heart was pounding so hard it was almost painful, and her skin felt like someone had thrown a bucket of ice over her.

Scabior approached her first, all swagger and sweat and filth. He cupped her cheek in his hand and lowered his head to hers as if to kiss her. Hermione wanted to claw his face off.

"Hello, my lovely," he drawled. "And what do they call you?"

Hermione trembled but was proud that her voice sounded clear. "Penelope Clearwater. Half-blood."

Scabior smirked. "Is that right? Well. What kind of company are we keeping out here, eh? One girl, all alone with two strapping blokes. That's how reputations get started, you know."

Hermione said nothing. She couldn't keep the murder from her glare as he gazed at her lecherously, his eyes sweeping down from her face to her body so intently she could feel it prickle her skin, a ghostly violation.

On instinct, Hermione jerked away from him and fell towards her wand on the leafy ground, reaching for it. She felt a ragged pain and cried out when Scabior's boot connected with her back. Ruthless laughter erupted from the men surrounding her, apparently amused by her futility and distress.

"Tut tut, Ms. Clearwater," Scabior said, dragging her up and throwing her back against a tree. "That was rather rude of you, don't you think? We're having a conversation here."

She was still recoiling from the pain, breathing hard. Scabior suddenly shoved his hand between her thighs and palmed her over her jeans, his other hand used to point his wand at her chest. Hermione whimpered but was too scared to cry. He didn't rub her or make any moves to touch her deeper; the message was clear. The declaration of ownership. The powerful over the powerless.

When he left the front of her pants to run his calloused thumb across her bottom lip, she reared to bite it off. But at that moment, another Snatcher ran up behind them, panting.

"It's Potter! She was with Potter! He — he got away, but it was him alright."

Scabior's eyebrows raised and his grin grew larger.

"So _that's_ the sort of company you're keeping. Looks like we'll be taking you with us, beautiful."

* * *

The walk to the gates of Malfoy Manor felt like the descent into hell. None other than Bellatrix Lestrange was waiting for her, bony fingers poking through the steel like hungry demons. Scabior hauled Hermione close enough to her that she could feel Bellatrix's disgusting breath on her face. The woman laughed with malice.

"The Mudblood is here! The Mudblood is here! Ooh, it's Christmas!" she sang.

The gates creaked open, and Hermione's stomach dropped into her feet. Scabior shoved her through the threshold.

"I could smell the Muggle on you," he whispered roughly in her ear. "I've never had Mudblood cunt before. Wonder if it tastes different."

A whine of panic rushed through Hermione's skull, but she remained stoic.

"Try anything, and the only thing you'll be tasting is your own blood," she spat. Scabior just laughed and pushed her along again with slightly more force. She could still hear Bellatrix singing and cackling maniacally behind her.

The castle was exactly how she imagined it: elaborately gothic, so dark it was suffocating. But the terror the castle elicited was nothing compared to what its inhabitants did to her. The first person she saw was Draco Malfoy, who stared at her dumbly before picking a spot of floor next to his feet and training his eyes there. Then she saw his parents, looking haggard and small. But the Malfoys were the least of Hermione's problems.

Fenrir Greyback leered at her from a corner of the room. His eyes somehow glowed in the darkness, and it sent a chill down Hermione's spine. Scabior pushed her down to the hard floor and she gasped as the coldness hit her cheek. She turned over and glared at him hatefully, but remained on the ground.

He pointed his wand at her almost carelessly. "Talk, Mudblood. Where's Potter?"

She set her jaw and remained silent. Scabior snickered.

"Looks like she needs a bit of motivation!" He gestured towards Bellatrix, who glided over. She smiled wickedly at Hermione before screeching, "Crucio!"

Pain flooded Hermione's body. It thrummed in her bones, behind her eyes, inside her blood, as if it was a sentient being, hell-bent on destroying her. The pain was fire on her skin and breaking in her bones and acid in her lungs. It found its way through every nerve and made them all split apart in agony. Hermione could hear screaming and barely registered that it was her own; she was nothing but pain, pain was all she ever was, all she ever would be.

And then it stopped. Hermione's head swam as she tried to collect herself again, but could barely sit up. Bellatrix loomed over her.

"Enough to start talking? Or do you need another?" Bellatrix gleefully raised her wand again but Scabior stopped her.

"She won't be useful half-mad," he said with the breeziness of someone telling a stranger the time. He dropped to one knee beside Hermione and smiled down at her. "Tell me where the boy is, and I promise I won't let anyone hurt you." He stroked her cheek. "Tell me, and I'll keep you safe."

Hermione spat in his face. Scabior grimaced, wiped the spit off his forehead dramatically, and smacked her hard across the cheek. More tears sprang to Hermione's eyes as the force of his blow knocked her head to one side.

"She's useless," he said to Bellatrix. "Kill her."

Bellatrix's eyes lit up in delight as she approached Hermione.

Throughout her life, Hermione had come across more than a few near death experiences. None compared to this. As Bellatrix walked towards her, each footstep a sharpening of the executioner's blade, Hermione felt what real fear was. This was the end of everything. She would die alone amongst enemies. The thought made something break inside of her.

Bellatrix raised her wand again and Hermione screwed her eyes shut as the tears cascaded down her cheeks. She desperately tried to think of something happy for her last memory, of her parents, of Harry and Ron, of something, anything but this oh God please not like this -

"Don't."

Everyone looked up at Draco, whose small protestation seemed loud in the echoing chamber. Hermione's own sobbing sputtered and stopped as she opened her eyes to Draco's cloudy face. Furious, Bellatrix descended upon her nephew.

"What did you say?" Her question was very near a shriek.

"She — she's closer to Potter than anyone." His voice shook and it was quite clear he was quickly regretting every word he spoke. "If anyone could lure him here, it's her. We could throw her in the dungeon, and he'll come, and — and we'll get him."

"_Why,_" Bellatrix was now very close to his face, seething and spitting, "are you so intent on defending the Mudblood? Have you forgotten who you serve, nephew?"

It was completely silent. Hermione could only hear her own breathing, which still wasn't as loud as the bafflement that made her ears ring and her brain work in overdrive. She never expected Draco of all people, the boy who terrorized her through most of her adolescence, to ever find it in his better interest to attempt to save her life.

Draco had not yet answered Bellatrix, and it seemed as if he had forgotten how to use his tongue. Lucius chuckled nervously.

"You know teenage boys," Lucius stammered, "The hormones, and all that. She's a pretty girl, and…it's just how boys are."

Bellatrix cocked her head to the side quizzically.

"Is she pretty?" she said. She looked back at Hermione and studied her. "I hadn't noticed."

Considering who this comment was coming from, Hermione wasn't that offended.

Bellatrix seemed to think for a moment, and then shrugged her shoulders almost comically. "Well, alright," she said, tone now flippant. She pinched Draco's cheek and stuck her tongue out, laughing. "We'll keep the ugly little Mudblood alive for him."

"We can do better than that." Greyback stalked over from his corner, where he had previously been silent. Hermione had almost forgotten he was there. Almost. He hoisted Hermione to her feet and shoved her at Draco, who caught her and then quickly dropped his hands from her shoulders. Hermione stumbled a bit but managed to keep herself upright. She didn't look at anyone besides Greyback, her stance defensive.

"Let's let him have her for the night." His lips twisted into more of a snarl than a smile. "You want her, claim her."

Hermione could feel her heart rate speed up.

"He's a child," Narcissa said, horrified at the suggestion. Her eyes were wide and her face had turned as pale as the white in her hair.

"A child? Ha!" Greyback growled. "There are no children anymore. Only soldiers."

He turned away from Narcissa, who was now gripping Draco's arm and whispering something in his ear. "What do you think, girl?" Greyback took a few menacing steps towards Hermione. "Want to go up a few levels of the social order tonight?"

Hermione couldn't suppress the sob that tore through her chest as he grabbed her by the hair and hauled her towards the staircase.

"Come along, boy." Greyback called over his shoulder. Through the sharp pain in her scalp Hermione heard Draco take slow, tentative steps behind her. When they reached the doorway to a dimly lit guest bedroom, Greyback actually walked her all the way inside. For one terrible moment, Hermione thought he would throw her onto the bed himself. Instead he set her upright and pulled Draco inside the room.

"There we are." He sucked on his sharp teeth. "Nice and cozy." Greyback put his mouth uncomfortably close to Hermione's neck before he spoke to Draco again. "Be sure to mark your territory well, boy. I'll be able to smell if you haven't." He took a long, drawn out sniff of Hermione's neck and she felt bile rise up in her throat. "Oh, yes she's a sweet one. If you don't, _anyone_ might try to jam themselves inside her." His lips curled into a smile as his words made their intended effect on Hermione. She was visibly shaking and holding back tears. "Probably Scabior…maybe me. Fair warning, I'm a biter."

He bit the air in front of Hermione's nose and she shrieked in spite of herself. Greyback made a sound that was half a chuckle and half a growl as he left the room and shut the door behind him. Hermione then became keenly aware of Draco's presence, and her instinct kicked in.

She scanned the room quickly and noticed a small table with a dark green, antique bottle on it. Almost as soon as the door had been locked, she snatched it up, smashed the neck of it on the bed's headboard, and held out the jagged end towards Draco like a knife. He hadn't moved the entire time, and looked at her makeshift weapon wearily.

"Don't you dare touch me, Malfoy," she said, swiping the air in front of her with the broken bottle for emphasis.

Draco barely glanced at her before he wordlessly got on top of the bed. He simply laid down and closed his eyes, seemingly unaware of her presence. Sucking in quick, shallow breaths and shaking, Hermione didn't lower the bottle as she slowly backed up against the wall. For a long time she just stood there, ready to attack, eyes half-crazed. But after about fifteen minutes she had calmed down enough to lower her arm. Thirty minutes after that, she sat down against the wall and hugged her knees against herself. Enough time had passed that she was no longer a beast, a bundle of flesh and bone and fear, surviving for the sake of surviving. She was a witch, and a bright one at that. One that knew what must be done if she was going to make it out of this, back to her family and friends…back to Ron.

She tried not to think about Ron as she walked over to the bed, legs heavy and tongue dry.

"Malfoy, are you awake?" she said quietly, wanting to die more every second but knowing what must be done. He didn't stir, but Hermione knew he wasn't asleep. "Malfoy, we…we need to…to do what we were put up here for."

Draco opened his eyes slowly and glowered at her. "Don't be disgusting, Granger."

Hermione seethed and her fists clenched, but she had to suppress her anger. "You heard Greyback. If you don't—" she inhaled hard through her nose, "mark your _territory_, then I'll be—"

She couldn't finish the sentence. Draco sat up and looked her hard in the eye. "No. I won't."

They were both completely still for a few moments, eyes locked. Then Hermione started undoing her jeans.

"Stop," Draco pleaded as he put his hand on Hermione's forearm to stop her movements. "_Please_, stop." He looked up at her with such a pained expression it made the turmoil Hermione was feeling give way to utter surprise. Then a thought struck her, and she grew even more furious.

"Why? Are you _that _revolted by the thought of being with a Muggle-born? Enough that you'll just throw me to the dogs?" She hated that her eyes were filling with tears. It let on how terrified she was.

Draco rose from the bed and stalked angrily to the window. "Believe it or not, Granger," he spat through clenched teeth, "I don't particularly enjoy the idea of r-raping women." He stumbled a bit over the word and wouldn't look at her.

Hermione covered her face with her hands. She wanted to tear the room apart, to scream and cry at the cruel irony that she would have to persuade Draco Malfoy to take her against her will.

"Could you live with yourself?" she choked out. "If those men were to do that to me, and probably kill me in the end, could you ever stop hating yourself?" She turned to look at him.

He stared at her, mouth open slightly. Then he blinked and his scowl returned. "I'm sure, regardless of what happens in the future, I'll become quite familiar with hating myself. But it won't be because I went around forcing Mudbloods to shag me. As if I'd ever want them to."

Hermione sniffed away tears and walked towards him. She put her hands on his chest and bit her lip in what she hoped looked like seduction.

"Draco…please, I—I want you," she lied. She was sure she'd be familiar with hating herself too.

Draco pushed her hands away from him harshly and his lip curled. "Don't patronize me."

It felt like every source of happiness inside her body was drained from her as her arms fell limply at her sides. For a wild moment, she thought maybe a dementor was nearby. But she didn't have that kind of luck.

Hermione could feel the beginnings of hysteria creeping up on her when Draco finally sighed, utterly resigned, and said, "Get on the bed."

Not daring to breathe, she made her way to the large bed. It was as well-crafted as all of the Malfoy possessions were; dark, elf-made wooden columns and headboards, sheets softer than silk. But one of the edges of its thick comforter was fraying a bit, and Hermione tore a piece off.

"What are you doing?" asked Draco, his silver brow furrowed.

"Something for me to bite down on," she said matter-of-factly, although her voice was still thick. She was in hyper rational mode, a state she was most comfortable in. "I'm not certain what Greyback meant by 'smell it' on me, but we shouldn't take chances. I'll probably have to bleed a bit. Don't worry, it sounds much worse than it will feel." She quickly disrobed except for her bra and knickers. Despite what they were about to do, that still felt too intimate, too soon. She sat down on the bed and finally looked at Draco again.

He hadn't moved an inch. It was clear his eyes had been on her body, but they darted away as soon as she looked at him. Her face felt very hot all of a sudden and she realized she was embarrassed. It was starting to sink in that a known blood supremacist was staring at her naked body, and it made her feel a bit queasy.

"It'll be quick," she said softly, more to herself than to him. "We'll just get it over with as fast as we can."

Still not looking at her, Draco began taking off his clothes. Hermione mostly stared at the wall but couldn't help but see his body out of the corner of her eye; a glimpse of pale, strong limbs and legs. It made her feel queasy again but also something else, something she didn't want to think about feeling.

When he climbed onto the bed Hermione suddenly lost all courage. She looked at anything besides him and swallowed several lumps at her throat. She wanted to be as far away from him as possible, wearing a parka and two pairs of pants and wielding her wand, and maybe a steak knife as well, for good measure. Not beside him, not close enough to touch, not shivering in bare skin despite the fact that the room wasn't cold.

Neither of them wanted to move first, but finally, Hermione gritted her teeth and exhaled sharply out of her nose.

"Are you ready?" her voice sounded like a little girl's. Draco made a small noise that resembled a gulp, but nodded. Hermione went to slide down his boxers, but he stopped her hand. Draco slowly positioned his body over hers and brought his lips down to her neck.

Hermione's entire body froze. "What are you _doing_?" she asked, sounding more than a bit outraged.

She felt Draco sigh against her shoulder. "It will hurt you less if we do this bit first," he muttered. Hermione was so shocked that Draco cared whether or not he hurt her that she let him continue his ministrations.

He switched from putting wet kisses on her neck to applying them to her collarbone. He hadn't kissed her face or her lips, which Hermione was kind of glad for. Every now and then his hand would dip underneath her knickers to feel if she was wet, and every muscle in her body tightened. She knew she wasn't. She could feel nothing but tension and discomfort.

After a while, Draco groaned in frustration.

"If I am so disgusting to you," he spat, "I suppose you can pretend I'm someone else. Perhaps that poverty stricken redhead you're so fond of."

For some reason, his comment angered her. "Well, it's not exactly like you're _excited_ about it either!" In a fit of pride, she cupped her hand around his member. A soft "oh," escaped her mouth when she discovered that he was, in fact, painfully hard. He hissed at her touch.

"Don't flatter yourself, Granger," he sneered. "It's just biology. Nothing to do with you. Or didn't your Muggle parents teach you about that?"

Hermione's nostrils flared and she squeezed him through his boxers as revenge. Draco grunted aloud at the pain, wrenched her hand away from him and pinned it on the bed. He fumed over her, fingers close to spraining her wrist.

She stared up at him, terrified and in pain, and silently cursed her temper. This was not the time or place to lose one's head.

"How _dare _you - " He suddenly cut off, presumably from seeing the terror etched on her face. The look of malice on Draco's suddenly turned into one of self-loathing and revulsion. He let go of her wrist and lifted himself off her body. She watched without daring to move as he started breathing heavily and wildly looking around the room. Hermione was stunned to see there were tears in his eyes.

"Merlin," he half-sobbed, "Gods, what am I doing?" It almost looked as if he was having a panic attack. His breathing was violently uneven, his chest heaving, and he reacted physically to horrors invisible to Hermione. Of all the things that she could feel in that moment...she was just annoyed. They had a job to do.

"Draco. Draco." She reached for his hands which were running repeatedly through his own hair and tugging at it. He wouldn't let her get hold of him, and he kept knocking her hands to the side as he swore and muttered a stream of nonsense. At a complete loss of what to do, wrist still throbbing and stomach uneasy, Hermione threw her body against his and kissed him.

At first, he completely stopped moving. She kissed him hard and continued to move her body against his as she straddled his lap, letting her breasts rub against his chest and her knee brush against his groin. She all but humped him in her effort to snap him out of whatever it was that possessed him, and her cheeks started to burn in humiliation after a while of him not responding to her.

Seconds before she was about to pull away and accept her failure, and her horrible fate, she felt his arms circle around her bare waist. Relieved, Hermione opened her lips against his and tasted the inside of his mouth when his lips gradually parted for her. Her movements were sensual, but mechanical, never getting too carried away. A touch here, a kiss there, a stroke, a grope, a caress. She rationalized that as long as she did what she had to do and no more, there was no reason to feel guilt over this. She was surviving. What a person does, although undeniably wrong, when faced with the unmentionable is blameless. People would understand that. Ron would understand that.

Draco began to pull down the straps of her bra and laid her body down again. His kisses were beginning to feel feverish, frantic even, and his hands roamed freely on her body.

It killed her that when he touched the insides of her thighs she wanted him to do it again.

He unclasped her bra and threw it to the side of the bed. They were both breathing hard, mouths swollen and red from kissing, but he stopped all he was doing to gaze at her chest. For some reason, she wasn't embarrassed anymore at his open stare. Draco bent his head down and, starting a few inches above her bellybutton, lathed his tongue across her skin and up towards the valley between her breasts. Hermione had to close her eyes for a moment at the sensation.

Everything about Draco was cold, from his eyes to his skin to his heart. It was so unbearably odd that his mouth and tongue would be warm, could make her feel warm on the inside.

He took one of her nipples in his mouth and she had to swallow a moan. He sucked and nibbled on the light pink bud, let his teeth graze it more sharply when it hardened. It made Hermione's skin jump and desire pool low in her stomach. Without realizing it, she started arching up to his mouth, encouraging him to take more, lick more, do more. By the time he had given both of her breasts equal attention, she was writhing on the bed and soaking wet.

She almost begged for it. But she hadn't lost herself yet. She still remembered who she shared this bed with, and her pride was unrelenting. Luckily, she didn't have to wait too much longer.

Draco was agonizingly slow as he slipped off her knickers. They joined her bra on the floor and again, he just stared down at her as if he was astonished that she had genitalia. And then he did something that surprised them both.

He dipped his head to kiss the soft flesh of her cunt. Hermione's eyes rolled to the back of her head and she sank deeper into the pillow as his tongue delved into her folds, glanced the small gathering of nerves as he licked up her slit. She couldn't suppress the moans anymore; they were loud and they were frequent. She sighed his name over and over like a prayer, and she heard Draco make soft noises as he continued to slowly eat her.

He alternated between sucking on and circling her clit to fucking her with his tongue. He kept her legs apart by holding them on both sides of his face in too tight of a grip, overstretching them - it was the perfect amount of discomfort. Hermione couldn't resist sliding her fingers through his hair and bucking against his mouth, no longer fighting the sensations that coursed through her body like fire. She thought she might go crazy from the pleasure, her usually articulate tongue reduced to saying things like "oh, oh, oh" or "Draco, yes, god, yes." But through the fog of lust she remembered their intentions.

"Draco," she gasped, "you need to…we can't just…"

It was torture to make him stop what he was doing, but he lifted his face from her aching cunt at her words. Perhaps he was able to read between the lines and realize that if he made her come for any reason other than what was strictly necessary, the shame would swallow her whole. Perhaps she was giving him too much credit and he just wanted to fuck her already. Regardless, Hermione watched under heavily lidded eyes as he pulled off his boxers and ran his fingers up and down his length, just once. There was a small gathering of precum at the head of his dick and Hermione forced down the urge to run her tongue along him and taste it.

But her breath hitched and she shrank back as he spread her legs wider and positioned himself at her entrance. Everything was suddenly too real.

She put her hands on his smooth chest to stop him. Maybe if they stopped, she could think of a different plan, some other way to get out of this. He watched her carefully, his cock throbbing at her lips, but he didn't enter her. There was something in his eyes that said he wasn't certain about this either. Draco's hesitance actually made her braver. She watched in wonder as her own hands started to slide up his hard shoulders and hold onto the back of his neck. She gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

Without saying anything, he slid hard inside of her. She gasped and held onto him tightly as he rocked into her, fingers bruising at her hips. His lips crashed down to hers again, and she got a sick thrill from tasting herself on his tongue. As he fucked into her and moaned her name into her mouth, the full realization that guilt and shame were unavoidable hit her hard. Because this act wasn't one of mere survival. This was pleasure, nothing more and nothing less. She liked that his fingers gripped her a little too hard, she liked that every time he pulled out of her his cock rubbed against her clit, she liked the feel of his hard chest against her breasts, and she even liked that it was Draco who was doing this to her.

He bit her shoulder and she groaned loudly. She was so close.

"Please, Draco," she begged softly, "Please, harder. Oh God…" Harder. Was that for Greyback's benefit, or her own?

Draco grunted, slid his hands under her thighs and pulled her legs over his shoulders to fuck her deeper. Hermione felt like he was splitting her in half, and worst of all, she loved it. She threw her head back and shut her eyes as he pounded into her, giving her body to him completely. Then she felt his hand at her chin, pulling her head back down.

"Look at me," he said huskily, eyes flashing. And she did. She looked at him while she felt her walls clench around Draco's cock, felt the pressure building low in her stomach. She whimpered every time he thrust into her, feeling the wave coming, so close, beckoning to her, threatening to consume her. She stared into Draco's icy blue eyes the whole way through, barely an inch away. Then his thumb grazed her clit and she lost it. Her eyes widened as her orgasm washed over her, and she felt a scream build in her throat at its intensity. Draco moaned and his hand covered her mouth to muffle her screams. They were still staring into each other's eyes as Hermione thrashed wildly on the bed, overcome as wave after wave of pleasure hit her.

When her orgasm ebbed away, Draco was still fucking her. His palm was still muzzling her. She brought her hands up to tear him away from her mouth but they only got so far as to grab onto his arm when a sudden change in the motion of his hips almost made her scream again. She couldn't believe he could hold out this long, and if anything, he was fucking her harder. Seemingly against her will, her hips rose up to meet his as she wrapped her legs around him. Now that she had already come once, her cunt was hyper sensitive and the feeling of Draco rubbing and fucking her was almost too much to bear, painful even. But the pain added to the pleasure, added to the feeling of sinfulness that for some reason made her wetter.

He was groping her breasts again, this time rougher, unhinged. Draco was hitting that horrible, wonderful place inside her with his dick and kneading her breasts with his hand and sliding his tongue along her own and she didn't want it to feel so good but it did. Every plunge into her sent another shockwave of pleasure and it was altogether too much but still she wanted more, more.

She raised herself up to be closer to him and he lifted her upwards by her thighs. She ended up with her back to the bed's headboard, in Draco's lap, his cock still driving in and out of her.

He kissed her mouth with his teeth and it hurt; she did it back, harder, and it hurt him more. She wondered if he was scared to break through her skin, scared of tasting the dirt in her blood.

"You fucking..." he moaned as Hermione pulled his head back and sucked on his neck. "You fucking..." he rubbed Hermione's clit like he was trying to wear it down. It just added to the heat that swept through her body and made her whine louder. "I _hate _you." Hermione felt nothing; his words meant nothing. They were breathless and meaningless and spiked with wet kisses.

Her legs started to quiver. She felt another orgasm coming, that coil of heat slowly unwinding within her. But instead of it feeling good like she thought it would, she panicked. She couldn't explain this away to herself, coming on Draco's cock twice. It was true betrayal; she would become everything she hated in a person. A hypocrite, a cheat. Panting, she shoved his face away from hers. He growled when she did.

"Draco," she rasped. "I'm going to…I can't…please…I can't..."

She still wasn't sure if she was begging him to stop or begging him to fuck her harder. He did the latter. She vibrated and her teeth rattled and the headboard banged raucously against the wall as he slammed her down onto his dick by the hips, at the same time thrusting upwards with all his strength and hatred and fury. Her fingernails raked down his back and she felt him shudder, gasp. This time as she came, she bit down on his neck to quiet her cries and Draco fisted the pillow beneath them as he pumped hot come inside her, some spurting onto her thighs. He came quietly, and she came guiltily.

They stayed like that for a while, breathing hard, him still inside of her. She felt her own cool tears on Draco's shoulder, and realized she was crying.

He finally pulled out of her and rolled over. Hermione took a deep and shuddering breath, wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand and started to get out of the bed. Draco's hand stopped her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, quiet and confused. She didn't look at him.

"I'll sleep on the floor," she said. "It's fine." Her body felt alien and used up; sleeping on the ground seemed the most attractive option in her current state.

But he didn't release her from his grip. "Greyback might come back any time," he said slowly, making an effort at sounding logical. "It might not look good to see us sleeping separately."

Hermione knew that the evidence of their night together was obvious, you wouldn't need to be a werewolf to know. But she lied back down anyway.

"Okay."

She got under the blanket and so did he. They lied together side by side, and stared up at the black ceiling. Hermione was astounded with herself. Disgusted, more like. But it was understandable, she supposed, in a way. Although she hated Draco, hated him to his very hideous, bigoted core, she still might die any second, and he was familiar. Hogwarts was her second home, and although Draco Malfoy was a nasty part of that home, he still _was_ a part of it. And here, in this unknown, awful place of pain and fear, he was a comfort.

She reckoned he got the same kind of twisted solace from her presence as well. At one point in the night, Draco placed his hand on hers. She didn't move to intertwine their fingers, but she didn't move her hand _away_ either.

Neither of them slept that night, passing the time by listening to each other breathe. Hermione tried to think about Ron, but now even those memories were somehow tainted. Nothing was right anymore. Nothing may ever be right again.

The next morning, Greyback came sniffing around and leered at them, grinning wolfishly. Hermione trembled as she stared back at him and was grateful to have Draco beside her, no matter how bizarre that feeling was.

The next morning also brought Ron and Harry who came to save her. Luckily, Greyback had left on some other mission by the time the boys had arrived, so the fighting was brief. After Dobby dropped a chandelier above Bellatrix's head Hermione fell into Ron's arms, but she didn't feel like she deserved to be there anymore. She didn't quite fit as nicely, like a circle trying to land inside a square. As they Disapparated from the castle, she should have been looking at the knife hurtling towards them, or Ron, or even Harry, who she knew ranked priority on a macro scale.

But she looked at Draco. And he looked back at her.

And then they were gone.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry if you thought it was a little plot heavy if you were only reading for the sex, but I thought the plot was important and I loved it. It needed urgency otherwise there was no way Hermione would ever, ever sleep with Draco. WARNING, bit of an anti-dramione rant ahead: I get very offended by fics where Hermione and Draco hook up and then discover that "a hidden love that was always there suddenly blossomed" or something. People who write stories like that have obviously never been on the receiving end of a racial slur and don't understand how Hermione feels about blood supremacists. They just don't get what a powerful, dehumanizing thing it is. People have called me the n word, and I sure as hell have no unblossomed love for them. So, yeah, I just didn't want to get too sentimental about it because I'm not all that pro-dramione. But it's still a smutty fic so of course Hermione was taken away by what a great lay Draco is lol.

Anyways, read, review, kisses!


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